


The Storm Saviors

by astrangerenters



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Reunions, Superheroes, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2401907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Singing delivery man Ohno is hired for a rather strange job - reuniting Storm City’s superheroes for their fifteenth anniversary. Too bad singing isn’t actually a superpower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After being handed his first delivery order for the day, Ohno sighed. In general, people hired the Swift and Speedy Singers for the surprise factor. Bouquets of flowers, birthday cakes, anniversary gifts. Repeat customers were a rarity, but the order ticket in his hand noted that this was the sixteenth delivery to Aiba Masaki’s house in the last few weeks.

He shrugged, taking the order ticket to the warehouse where they had Aiba’s stuff ready to go. A 50-pound jumbo bag of birdseed, toilet paper, and toothpaste. “Just go to the store,” Ohno grumbled to himself as he loaded everything into the truck. On the way, he figured out the tune he’d go with, although the lyrics were going to be rather dull. With birthdays he could usually be more creative but birdseed? Toilet paper?

Aiba Masaki lived in a fairly boring looking house at the end of Lotus Street in the northeast part of Storm City. What drew Ohno’s eye, however, were the soaring trees in the yard and the little bird feeders perched on some of the tallest branches. As he wrapped the jumbo bag of birdseed in a hug to haul it out of the truck and over to Aiba’s porch, he wondered where the man’s ladder was. How did he get to his bird feeders?

He cleared his throat, setting down the other parts of Aiba’s order and ringing the doorbell. “Swift and Speedy Singers. A delivery for you!”

This was his first visit to the place even though it was Aiba’s sixteenth order, so he could only hope his songs were comparable to any other deliveries. He lived off of tips, after all.

Aiba Masaki, a lanky guy with a bright smile, opened the door wide. “Ah, my birdseed!”

Before Aiba could say anything else, Ohno took a step back off the porch until he had room to move. He doffed his delivery cap in greeting and burst into song, holding out his arms.

Good day to you, Aiba-san, and here’s what you get  
Some food for the birds, and no cavities, I’ll bet  
‘Cause with this fancy toothpaste, your teeth are all set! 

Some toilet paper, too, so your bathroom never lacks  
Your grand total today with delivery and tax,  
Is 3786 yen, and those are the facts! 

He set his hat back on properly, finishing with a smile as Aiba burst into applause. “That was awesome!” his customer cheered, dragging his birdseed into the house, coming back and pulling his wallet from his pants pocket. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Ohno replied, trying not to let his jaw drop as Aiba handed him a 10,000 yen note and told him to keep the change.

When he turned to head back to the truck, Aiba called out to him. The sunny cheerfulness on Aiba’s face was faltering a bit when Ohno turned back to find him still hovering in his open doorway, fumbling with his toothpaste.

“I was, um, I was wondering…”

Ohno hesitated, hoping Aiba wasn’t expecting another song with his ample tip. Ohno only had so much creativity in him, and he had five more deliveries to get through before his shift was over.

“I was wondering if you do…private commissions?”

Ohno gaped at him. “Huh?” It wasn’t exactly proper customer service protocol, talking to customers that way, but he was way more used to people closing doors in his face as soon as his song was complete. Follow-up questions were rare.

“I’m trying to organize a reunion of sorts,” Aiba said, looking rather sheepish. “And all the mail I’ve sent out has come back stamped ‘Return to Sender,’ so maybe a song would work.”

Ohno walked up closer, seeing a sad bit of desperation in Aiba-san’s eyes. “Um, I hate to break this to you, but as someone working as a professional singing delivery man, I can guarantee that people who don’t want to hear from you will really not care if your message comes in a song or not. Sorry.”

Aiba looked down, his eyes filling with tears, and Ohno felt terrible for him. “It’s just…it’s just that this month would have been our fifteenth anniversary as a group, you know? They’re not taking my calls, they won’t read my letters…”

Ohno wanted to back away. The last thing you did was get involved in a customer’s personal crisis. They were Swift and Speedy, after all, not Loitering and Listening. But Ohno couldn’t help but be charmed by Aiba. He was clearly a guy with a big heart - the sheer number of bird feeders in the trees in the yard also hinted at a gentle and generous person. “School friends or something? Class reunion?”

Aiba stepped back, holding his door open. “Um, if I tell you, can you promise not to tell anyone? I swear, if you help me out, I’ll pay you whatever you think is fair.”

“Whatever you think is fair” had a lot of potential, Ohno thought greedily, knowing that his rent was due in a few days. 

“I have other deliveries this morning,” Ohno admitted. “But I can come back this afternoon.”

Aiba’s face lit up in joy, and for the first time, Ohno thought there was something oddly familiar about that smile.

—

When his shift was over, he made his way back to Lotus Street, this time on his bicycle and not in a Swift and Speedy truck. He left the bike next to one of Aiba’s well-tended flower beds and rang the bell. Aiba opened the door with a smile, staring at him for a few moments.

“Uh…hi?” Ohno replied, shifting his weight to his other foot.

Aiba masked some obvious disappointment, holding the door open for him. “Oh, I thought you would sing again…”

“I’m off the clock, sorry,” Ohno replied, following Aiba into his house. 

It was kind of a mess, and Ohno soon realized why. There were animals everywhere. Cats lounging on clawed up furniture, shiba inu dogs curled up in beds near the TV, and a massive hamster palace taking up half of what might have once been a dining room. Inside were dozens of little furry hamsters turning on wheels and shoving tiny carrots in their overstuffed mouths. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell that bad. Maybe his other Swift and Speedy orders had included cleaning supplies. Before Ohno could comment on the menagerie, though, Aiba was pulling him through to a door in the rear of the house.

“Delivery-san, can you promise not to say anything about what I show you in the basement?”

That Ohno’s first thought was “Wait, I haven’t told him my name” and not “I shouldn’t be following a strange animal hoarder into his basement” said a lot about Aiba’s seeming trustworthiness.

“I promise,” Ohno said. “Oh, and my name’s Ohno. Ohno Satoshi. Nice to meet you.”

“Ah!” Aiba said, looking embarrassed. “Aiba Masaki. Follow me, would you please?”

Ohno hurried to close the basement door behind him before one of the cats could sneak down with them. Aiba turned on a light and led Ohno into a space even more bizarre than the veritable zoo on the floor above. Ohno had to admit that the place looked like a command center.

There was a massive map of Storm City pinned to the wall, computer screens and panels, and most shocking of all, a glass display case in the center of the room with track lighting and a bright green spandex costume held inside. He’d recognize that bright green spandex costume anywhere, although it had been years since he’d seen it. The white utility belt and white cape, the yellow circle in the center with “CC” emblazoned on it…

“You can’t be…” Ohno exclaimed, covering his mouth in shock.

Aiba blushed rather adorably, patting his head in embarrassment. “Uh yeah. I am.”

Ohno wasn’t sure how long it had been. Six years, maybe seven? But there was no mistaking it. The costume in that case clearly belonged to Captain Chiba, superhero and protector of Storm City. For several years, Storm City had been a hotbed of villainous activity. Parents had kept their kids indoors, banks had been repeatedly robbed, electromagnetic pulses had a nasty habit of disrupting everybody’s gadgets for days on end.

But then suddenly a group of four superheroes had arrived on the scene. Captain Chiba, who had the ability to fly, was usually touted as their leader. For a handful of years Captain Chiba and his three friends, dubbed the “Storm Saviors” by all the papers, had cleaned up the streets and made Storm City safe again. But all of a sudden, a new team had entered the scene, the Eight Rangers, and the Storm Saviors vanished into obscurity.

They weren’t much more than a memory now. Storm City had been relatively crime-free for a few years. The Eight Rangers mostly made appearances at grocery store openings now.

They hadn’t vanished though, had they? Ohno was apparently standing in Captain Chiba’s basement! Suddenly the really high up bird feeders made a lot more sense.

He took a closer look around the room. Aside from Captain Chiba’s costume, there were a few keys to the city on display, certificates of gratitude, and numerous newspaper clippings pinned to the wall. The Storm Saviors never showed their full faces or revealed their identities, but seeing the smiles in the photographs, he definitely knew that Aiba was Captain Chiba.

Ohno turned, grinning from ear to ear. “Amazing! Hey, what happened to you guys? You were great!”

Aiba flipped a switch on the wall and a couch came up from the floor. He flopped onto it with little grace, tearing up all over again. Ohno was confused, cringing a bit when Aiba started sobbing. Not very superhero-like.

“Oh Delivery-san!” he wailed, even though Ohno was fairly certain he had introduced himself properly before they’d come downstairs. “It was all my fault!”

Ohno sat at the edge of Aiba’s crying couch, patting his foot a few times in sympathy as he explained how it all went down. The four Storm Saviors had mostly eliminated crime, and the Eight Rangers had shown up after vanquishing evil rather thoroughly in their hometown of Infinity City. Encroaching on Storm Savior turf, the colorfully-clad Rangers refused to leave.

Two of the Saviors had wanted to fight them, to force the Rangers to leave. But the other two had disagreed because, of course, a battle of good versus good would leave somebody as a bad guy. Left at an impasse, the Storm Saviors disbanded entirely, and the Eight Rangers had achieved victory without so much as a squabble in the streets.

This had all clearly happened behind the scenes, Ohno knew. One day the Storm Saviors had been around and the next they hadn’t been.

“Um, Aiba-san…” Ohno asked quietly once Aiba’s crying calmed down a bit. “When you mentioned that private commission to me, the um, reunion you’re trying to organize?”

Aiba sat up, grabbing one of the couch pillows and hugging it to his chest. “Yeah. As I said, it’s our fifteenth anniversary this year. We started in high school, once we learned we all had powers.”

Ohno tried to keep his jealousy at bay. Powers very rarely manifested in people, and they were usually pretty lame. Being able to walk through a door once in a while or turn on the TV (but nothing else) with your mind. For a while, Ohno thought his singing ability was a superpower, but working for a singing delivery service had showed him that wasn’t really the case.

“We parted on pretty bad terms, but anniversaries are important, you know? I keep writing and they won’t even listen to me! But maybe you could help…”

Ohno really doubted that showing up and singing a request from Aiba was going to make much difference, but Aiba had told him about his secret identity so easily. Maybe he was really getting desperate.

“The anniversary’s in a few weeks, and I just want to catch up with them. It’s got nothing to do with the Eight Rangers, I swear. I just…” Aiba looked at his feet, tears threatening to spill again. “I just miss them, you know?”

Ohno got off the couch, checking out a newspaper clipping with the four of them. They looked proud to stand together, happy even. 

“We’d never fought, not once,” Aiba explained. “It was our first fight and our last.”

Ohno crossed his arms, staring at Captain Chiba and his friends. They’d saved the city, over and over, at great risk to themselves. Even if they just met up together for dinner, out of costume and casual, it would probably mean the world to Aiba Masaki, who had clearly filled the city-saving void in his life with animal rescues. A lot of animal rescues.

“I’ll pay you anything. We got so much reward money from stopping criminals that I really never have to work again,” Aiba said, looking desperate. “Anything, Delivery-san. Please! You’re my only hope.”

Ohno had spent his whole life comparatively powerless. He couldn’t fly and he certainly couldn’t save damsels in distress. But hey, he could sing, right?

“I’ll do it,” Ohno agreed, turning to Aiba with a smile. “But only if you let me watch you feed the birds.”

—

When the Storm Saviors had had their big fight, the first and last fight, it was Keio Boy who had sided with Captain Chiba in refusing to fight the Eight Rangers. Aiba guessed that of his three former companions, Keio Boy hated him the least. Then again, when the group broke up, Aiba had explained, Keio Boy had embraced a quiet life and seemed to like it quite a bit. He wanted to put his life in the Storm Saviors behind him, and that apparently meant ignoring every letter Aiba tried to send him.

Keio Boy, blessed with superhuman strength, was actually a regular salaryman now. Sakurai Sho worked at a bank, had a wife, and two young children. It had been a very productive few years for him, clearly evident as he and Aiba watched Sakurai emerge from the subway exit and head for his bank’s headquarters. He was wearing a fancy suit and carrying an expensive-looking briefcase. They were parked across the street in a Swift and Speedy truck, staking out the place, and had been for two days now.

Ohno was on a brief “leave of absence” from his day job, but with the help of Aiba’s money, he’d managed to talk his boss into borrowing the truck for a while. Aiba handed him the binoculars, sighing as Sakurai disappeared into the building.

“He looks so happy,” Aiba mumbled. “Maybe this was a mistake…”

“It’s not like you’re asking him to start fighting crime again,” Ohno said gently. “It’s just, what, dinner now?”

Aiba’s plan had evolved dozens of times in the past few days now that he had Ohno to bounce ideas off. Initially Aiba’s plan had been for the four of them to suit up and take commemorative purikura photos somewhere before doing karaoke in costume. Ohno had talked him out of that, since all the members of the Storm Saviors were over 30 now and they’d certainly look strange walking around the streets in spandex. 

Aiba had finally agreed for them all to meet sans-costumes for dinner. A few hours of their lives, surely that wasn’t too much to ask? 

“Maybe you and I should just have dinner, Delivery-san.” Ohno wasn’t sure if Aiba was just calling him that to be cute now or was too embarrassed to ask him again what his name was. “Then nobody has any hurt feelings.”

Except _you’d_ have hurt feelings, Ohno wanted to tell him. Poor Captain Chiba. The past few days had truly endeared the ex-crimefighter to Ohno. He was a lonely man, surrounded by his pets and seemingly unwilling to give up hope that his friends would come back to him. Though Ohno wasn’t always the hardest working person in the world, somehow he wanted to do everything he could to help Aiba get the Saviors back together, if only for one night.

They waited until Sakurai went on his lunch break, and Ohno stuck out his chin defiantly. After all, it was time to showcase his superpower. “Trust me, I can do this.”

Aiba was a bundle of nerves, shivering in his seat in the truck cab. “Just don’t make him angry. He always had a temper, and if he takes a swing at you…”

“Yeah I know,” Ohno said, rolling his eyes. “I can’t fly away like you can, I know that already.”

Aiba chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll do great. And if not, I’ll know you tried. That’s more than I can say for anyone else.”

Ohno had learned that he wasn’t Aiba’s first choice for delivering his message of friendship via song. Three other Swift and Speedy delivery people had rejected his invite, if only because the house full of animals had scared them off. Only Ohno had been in Aiba’s inner sanctum. Only Ohno knew the truth.

He hopped out of the truck, humming to himself as he crossed the street and followed Sakurai, who was heading toward a ramen place on the corner. “Excuse me,” Ohno said, tapping him on the shoulder. “Sakurai Sho-san?”

Sakurai turned, looking polite but a little busy. “He’s a workaholic now,” Aiba had told him. “Tread lightly.” For someone with super strength, he was rather average in size, with a round face and a bit of a slant to his shoulders that his suit couldn’t hide.

“Can I help you?”

“I was hoping I could speak with you for just a moment.” Ohno took a deep breath. “Keio Boy.”

Sakurai’s eyes widened, and he looked around nervously, hoping that nobody had overheard them. “What did you just call me?”

“You know what I called you,” Ohno said quietly, keeping an eye on Sakurai’s hand as it gripped his briefcase. Already the metal handle was bending.

“Did Masaki send you?” Sakurai asked coldly. “I don’t have anything to say to him…”

Ohno gestured for Sakurai to follow him, and the salaryman luckily did follow him to a dark corridor between his building and the one next door. Nobody would see if Sakurai beat him to a bloody pulp, but Aiba said that the guy could be trusted. As soon as they were alone and Sakurai’s fists were at least ten feet away, Ohno turned on the charm and started to sing.

I come on behalf of Aiba Masaki  
A good friend of yours and a good friend of mine  
He’s hoping that you will consent and agree  
To meet him for dinner and maybe some wine 

After all it’s a big anniversary  
He just wants to know if you’re well and you’re fine  
He wants to catch up that day, if you’re free  
Keio Boy, won’t you just give him a sign? 

He stood there, performing smile still pinned to his face, arms out expectantly. Sakurai was staring at him like he’d lost his mind. But then a few seconds later he started laughing. Laughing so hard he started snorting. Ohno cringed when the guy gave him a smack on the shoulder, but apparently Keio Boy could control his power enough that it didn’t send him hurtling through the wall. Instead he’d probably just have a massive bruise tomorrow.

“He’s sent me letters for ages, and he thinks a singing telegram’s going to work?” Sakurai chortled, nearly doubling over in laughter. “You can’t be serious with that song!”

Ohno narrowed his eyes. “You mean you’re not going to come? It would mean a lot to him.”

“Look, I have a life now. I have responsibilities and also, ahem, less than thirty minutes left in my lunch hour. So if you don’t mind…”

Ohno dropped to his knees, bending forward until his face was pressed to Sakurai’s shoe. “Just…just have dinner with the guy, okay? Just one dinner, it’s not going to kill you!”

“Whoa, hold on!” Sakurai protested, nudging him with his foot and sending him sprawling from the mere little flick of his toes. “Hold on, give me a break here…”

Ohno crawled back over to him, clinging to the guy’s ankles. “Oh come on, he misses you. All of you. You guys were the heroes of this city, and you can’t give up a few hours from your new boring life?”

Sakurai crouched down, staring him in the eye. “Did Masaki pay you to disgrace yourself like this? You’re really embarrassing yourself right now, okay?”

“He paid me to sing to you, and that’s it,” Ohno insisted. “But I can see that there’s nothing heroic about you anymore.”

Sakurai’s eye twitched. Aha, it was working.

“What kind of person are you, when someone who was like your best friend wants to meet for a meal and you’re too busy…doing…you know, bank stuff to meet with him once? He’s not asking for anything else from you. He just wants to know that you’re happy. He just wants to talk. I can’t believe I used to admire you…”

“Go after his ego,” Aiba had told him in the truck earlier. “He absolutely hates it when people lose confidence in him.”

“Wait a moment,” Sakurai was protesting, his lower lip trembling. “You were…you were a fan?”

“Your biggest fan,” Ohno lied. “And when you disappeared, I cried every night. And this is the kind of man you’ve become?”

Sakurai helped Ohno to his feet, holding him lightly by the shoulders. But even “lightly” by Keio Boy standards really hurt. He tried not to let it show. “Does he really just want to have dinner? My wife knows about everything, and I promised her I was finished with all that. I’m not getting roped in to anything else, not when I have a family…”

“Just dinner. On the fifteenth anniversary. Can you make it?”

Sakurai sighed, shaking his head. “If it means he’ll stop harassing me, I guess I can come…”

Ohno felt his spirits lift. Okay, so maybe his song hadn’t been the catalyst, the desperate begging on his knees had, but he’d achieved the victory Aiba had sought for so long. Maybe his superpower was being really good at pleading with people…

“We’ll pass along the details soon. Dress however you like, no costume required. Aiba-san looks forward to meeting you again.”

“Whatever.”

Ohno nearly skipped back to the truck, offering Aiba a thumbs up. Captain Chiba was barely able to contain his excitement, floating off the truck seat and hitting his head against the roof. He smiled at Ohno despite that, rubbing the crown of his head and smiling his bright superhero smile.

One Storm Savior down, two trickier ones to go.

—

The Swift and Speedy truck had barely cleared the entryway of the parking structure next door, but now that they were inside, they parked on Level 3 and had a perfect view out to the Italian restaurant’s employee access door. Matsumoto Jun worked there as the Sous-Chef and had for years, even when he was fighting crime at Aiba’s side.

Matsumoto had the ability to shoot strong, damaging sparks from his hands. “They’re called pyrotechnic energy plasmoids!” screamed every single newspaper interview with the man, which Ohno thought was rather amusing. Matsumoto had initially tried to float himself as the “Hanabi Man” or “The Plasmoid Prince.” All of these suggestions had been ignored in favor of “Mister Marvelous,” which Matsumoto had apparently hated the entire time.

“It was my fault,” Aiba explained as they spied on the Italian restaurant. “I came up with it, and then the newspapers all ran with it. I mean, really, who in their right mind knows what a plasmoid is?”

Ohno shrugged, although it seemed obvious that the rather lame superhero name had permanently tainted Matsumoto’s opinion of Aiba. Having that huge strike against him from the start, Aiba had been unable to calm Matsumoto down when he’d vowed to strike back at the Eight Rangers for encroaching on Storm Savior turf.

“He’s really competitive,” Aiba told him. “To a point that it surprises me that he never used his powers for evil. He’s like a criminal mastermind waiting to happen with how cunning he can be. But at the end of the day he really is a sweet person. He always brought cannoli to our strategy meetings.”

Competitive and cunning. And yet bearing cannoli. Ohno didn’t know what to make of Mister Marvelous. Sakurai Sho had been comparatively easy to read. Convincing Matsumoto to attend the dinner, well, that would take a lot more than a song and some shoe-kissing.

Aiba shoved a fistful of money into Ohno’s hand, smiling hopefully. “I believe in you, Delivery-san. Now go reel him in!”

Ohno pocketed the cash and left the truck, hurrying down the parking ramp and over to the restaurant. Aiba’s remarkable wealth had paid for Ohno’s new sport coat and slacks, a far cry from the itchy uniform he had to wear for his singing delivery job. He opened the door to the restaurant and was greeted by the young woman at the host stand.

“Welcome to Baccanale, sir. Do you have a reservation?”

“I don’t,” he said, slipping the hostess the first 10,000 yen bill from the stack Aiba had given him. 

The hostess gave him a strange look but pocketed the money anyhow. “Table for one, then?”

He handed her two more bills. “Near the kitchen please.”

He got the seat he wanted, facing the soundproof glass that showed all of the kitchen staff hard at work making pasta, frying up cutlets, and steaming vegetables. At the center of it all Ohno easily spotted Matsumoto Jun. Ohno was rather happy for the soundproofing because Matsumoto seemed to be a very loud person. He yelled at everyone, clapping his hands to hurry them along. Other diners in the restaurant seemed to find it charming, watching the man gesticulate and move the other chefs under him along. Every dish had to pass his firm inspection before it was sent out into the dining room.

A waiter approached the table, and Ohno slipped out three more bills, watching the waiter’s eyes bulge at the sight of them lying so casually atop his bread plate. “Excuse me, can you make sure the Sous-chef personally makes my food for me, please?”

The waiter glanced through the soundproof glass, watching Matsumoto dump a plate of carbonara in the trash and scold one of his chefs. “I’ll…see what I can do, sir,” the waiter mumbled, slipping the money off of Ohno’s bread plate and into his pocket with astonishing ease.

Within minutes Matsumoto Jun in his fine white uniform and proud hat came stalking out of the kitchen with an antipasto plate in hand. He set it before Ohno, arching an eyebrow. He was astonishingly good-looking, which might have also explained why people in the dining room kept looking into the kitchen. He was about Aiba’s equal in height, which meant several inches taller than Ohno himself. However, where Aiba was a rather thin fellow, Matsumoto was firmly built, broad-shouldered in a way Ohno would have expected from someone like Sakurai with his super strength.

“May I ask what publication you’re with?” Matsumoto asked him, bowing his head politely. His face was still a bit flushed from all the yelling in the kitchen, but he was otherwise rather calm. Ohno had expected his voice to be a bit more harsh, angrier. Maybe he brought out his “Cannoli” side in the dining room.

“Publication?”

Matsumoto offered a rather toothy grin. “Ah, I suppose you can’t say. My apologies. I bid you welcome to Baccanale and I would be honored to serve you this evening. Please can I have you start with our finest cured meats and our house-prepared mozzarella. The olive tapenade is an original recipe of my own design. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

With that, Matsumoto took his leave and went from smiling, patron-pleasing stud to kitchen nightmare, screaming at his dessert chef for apparently messing up a tiramisu. Ohno didn’t much mind because the food was really and truly amazing. The entire meal proceeded in the same way, with Matsumoto arriving with each course and some overly complicated explanation about what Ohno was about to shove in his mouth. Competitive indeed, was Matsumoto Jun, and it showed.

Matsumoto made suggestions for wine pairings and then poured for him, waving off the rest of the wait staff. It was like having his own personal chef and butler all in one, and Ohno was in such a happy food coma by the end of it that he belched noisily just as Matsumoto was clearing his plates. The chef turned, and Ohno saw a slight curl of disgust to his lip.

“I’ll be right back with your bill, sir.”

Ohno patted his belly, dumping the rest of Aiba’s money on the table when the bill was presented. Matsumoto eyed him strangely when he came to retrieve it. 

“I trust everything was to your liking? We have an exemplary kitchen here.”

“Yep,” Ohno said, sitting back in his seat, wishing he’d worn looser pants. “Everything was great.”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t take any notes during the meal.”

“Notes?” Ohno asked, clueless. “About what?”

“For your review,” Matsumoto said to him, looking at him like he was some kind of idiot.

Which, Ohno realized, wasn’t an entirely faulty assessment. Ohno had entered the restaurant, had flung money left and right. It wasn’t surprising that Matsumoto thought he was a fancy pants food critic.

“Oh, about that,” Ohno said, gesturing for Matsumoto to lean forward. He’d had maybe a little more wine than he should have and he grasped on to Matsumoto’s shoulder a bit more than necessary. “So, when does your shift end?”

Matsumoto pulled away from him. “What?” Some of the other guests turned around at his sudden outburst, and instead Matsumoto came close again, eyeing Ohno with contempt. “Did you eat all that just so you could hit on me?”

Another burp was bubbling up in his stomach, and if Ohno wasn’t careful he was going to burp right in the chef’s face. He let out a little groan. Keep it together, he told himself, Aiba was counting on him!

“Let’s just say that I had a _marvelous_ time, and I’d like to tell you more about it after your shift.”

At the word “marvelous,” Matsumoto froze, looking like Ohno had not only gone ahead and burped in his face, but had also wiped his mouth on his chef’s hat.

“I have…other customers,” Matsumoto said, finally returning to himself. He lowered his voice. “And you can tell Masaki to take his money and shove it up…”

“Please,” Ohno said, grabbing the chef’s wrist. “Just hear me out when your shift’s over. And maybe I’ll tell you about the best panna cotta I’ve ever had and where you can get some.”

He saw rage in Matsumoto’s eyes. All of a sudden there was a bright little flash and a handful of sparks flamed out as Matsumoto closed his fist and held it tight against his uniform jacket. “I will see you at 1:30 AM behind the restaurant. And consider yourself banned from Baccanale for life.”

Matsumoto plastered on a fake smile, straightening up and heading back for his kitchen before he sent any more sparks (pyrotechnic energy plasmoids!) Ohno’s way.

—

Implying that he’d had better panna cotta someplace other than Matsumoto’s restaurant (even thought he hadn’t) worked like a charm. He found the competitive chef lighting a cigarette in the alley behind Baccanale at quarter after one. Ohno couldn’t help but notice that Matsumoto had lit it without need of a lighter or a match. If Sakurai’s power had been frightening, then Matsumoto’s was pretty darn frightening too. Ohno was not in the mood to be burnt to a crisp, especially now that his wine buzz had worn off and he was here to make his case.

He cleared his throat upon approaching, seeing Matsumoto’s handsome face twist into an angry sneer. “Alright, listen. You’ve had your fun, but I’m retired from that life. If Masaki thinks I’m interested in wearing that stupid purple leotard again…”

Ohno chuckled to himself, then shut up when a little rain of sparks went flying past his ear. 

“Retired doesn’t mean I’m not using my powers, however,” Matsumoto threatened him. “We’d still be protecting this town if Masaki wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows and ‘let’s be friends with the Rangers, they’re fun guys.’ They were interlopers, plain and simple, and his usual cowardice ruined everything. He flew away from his responsibility to this city, figuratively and literally, so I want nothing to do with him.”

Ohno figured this was the best and only time he could go for it. He took a step back, standing right under the streetlight to add some romance to his performance, and opened his arms.

He’s sorry for the ways he hurt you  
And especially for that nickname.  
Splitting up made him so blue,  
He misses your friendship, not the fame! 

“Wait wait wait,” Matsumoto interrupted, “are you _singing_ at me?”

Once upon a time, you four were stuck like glue  
And protecting Storm City was your game  
He’s marvelously sorry, yes it’s true  
So meet him again, it won’t be lame! 

Matsumoto tossed his cigarette down, stomping it out with his shoe. “Are you done?”

Ohno’s performance face faltered, his arms lowering. “You didn’t like it?”

“Your voice is great, but those lyrics are horrible.”

Ohno clenched his fists. “It’s not about the lyrics but the sentiment behind them!”

“Who the hell are you anyway? I’ve got better things to do than listen to cheesy songs in an alley.”

Could Aiba see how catastrophically he was failing? Could the binoculars show him that? In all likelihood, Aiba had probably fallen asleep in the truck. They’d been up all day.

“My name is Ohno Satoshi. I work for Swift and Speedy Singers.”

Matsumoto rolled his eyes. “His letters didn’t work, so he hired you, huh? Is this about the fifteenth anniversary? Again?”

“Well yeah.”

Matsumoto shook his head, turning to walk away. “Enough already. Seriously. That’s enough.”

Ohno panicked. “Matsumoto-san, wait! You used to be my favorite member of the Storm Saviors.”

The chef stopped, but didn’t turn back.

“I like Sho-kun now. Keio Boy, I mean. Your power’s pretty lame anyway, compared to his. I think he could take you out.”

Matsumoto was quivering in rage, looking like a summer festival as sparks came showering down from his fingers, scorching the pavement. He turned, making the same horrified face he’d made earlier that night in the kitchen when some lamb chops had appeared to be cooked improperly.

“I _used_ to be your favorite?”

Ohno tried to keep from smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s right! But I mean, if I had to rank you according to accomplishments, I’m pretty sure that anything Keio Boy’s done is better. You can make a tapenade, so what? Keio Boy could bench press a whale.”

Ohno had a feeling that he was moments away from being incinerated on the spot…or from being proven wrong. Matsumoto held out his hands and sparks soared out of them in dozens of shimmering colors. It was admittedly a beautiful display, little pops and crackles as the plasmoids circled him, spelling out “Keio Boy isn’t that great” in black scorch marks in the pavement visible under the street lights.

“Sho-kun was my friend, and I’m not going to say a bad word about him,” Matsumoto insisted. “Except that my powers are much better than his. And even his are better than the Eight Rangers. Tell me something, you singing weirdo, is Sho-kun going to Aiba’s anniversary crap?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll be there,” Matsumoto patted his bicep through his uniform jacket. “And we’ll see who can bench press who.”

As he watched Matsumoto walk away, Ohno could feel the residual heat from Matsumoto’s sparks, er, plasmoids as he nudged at the ‘Keio Boy’ graffiti on the ground with his shoe. And he was fairly certain he’d never been this scared and simultaneously turned on in his life.

—

“I thought you said he hated you.”

“Well I never specifically said that he hated me. He can be very zen sometimes, you know, so hate isn’t something he wastes time on.”

Ohno stared at his new friend, annoyed. “So then why is he so against the reunion? If he doesn’t actually dislike you?”

Aiba smiled, as he had from the moment he started telling Ohno about Ninomiya Kazunari, his childhood friend. “Nino’s just…well, he’s Nino, and he’s always been contrary.”

Aiba Masaki could fly. Sakurai Sho had super strength. And Matsumoto Jun’s sparks could stop an evildoer in their tracks.

But then there was Ninomiya Kazunari, the man who could breathe underwater.

It was hard to say exactly what Ninomiya brought to the team. Truth be told, Ohno couldn’t remember one specific case Ninomiya had ever been credited with solving. The newspaper headlines always said things like “Keio Boy stops train from derailing” or “Captain Chiba rescues cat from tree” or “The Storm Saviors take out crime syndicate.” It had taken a bit of squinting on Ohno’s part to even find Ninomiya’s name in the newspaper clippings Aiba had plastered all over his basement situation room.

His superhero name had never really solidified in the hearts and minds of the Storm City readership. For the first year or so, he was referred to as The Human Fish, which was pretty creepy, seeing as how he was a normal-looking guy and didn’t have gills or anything. From there he was referred to in turn as The Guppy, Super Lungs, and depressingly, as “Captain Chiba’s sidekick.”

When the Saviors had formed, they’d all been at the same high school. Compared to his three best buddies, Ninomiya’s power was the least…helpful, but Aiba had always insisted that he be treated as a full-fledged, valuable member of the team. So while he’d only be called upon in rare instances, like when a kayak tipped over in the Pikanchi River, Ninomiya was never left behind.

But he’d still always felt like he was watching from the outside, keeping himself busy by managing the team’s incoming calls from the police department looking for help or crafting press releases announcing their victories. He evolved into more of a team manager than a team contributor and it weighed heavily on him. When the Eight Rangers arrived, he’d probably seen a way out. With Sakurai and Aiba in favor of working together with the Rangers and Matsumoto opposed, he’d sided with Matsumoto just to ensure that the team split up for good and he could stop playing second fiddle to his best friends.

But unlike the other two, Ninomiya still kept in touch with Aiba from time to time. Though he lived on the other side of town, he had also been content enough to live the rest of his life in comfort. Just like Aiba, he lived off the money the team had earned from solving crimes. As far as Aiba knew, his friend “Nino” lived in a comfortable condo and played video games all day. Unlike Matsumoto and Sakurai, Nino had little interest in leading a normal, “secret identity” type of life. After all, nobody would know he had superpowers at all unless they tossed him in a lake.

“But why won’t he celebrate with you? If you’ve been friends so long?” Ohno asked as they sat across the street from Nino’s building. 

Aiba frowned, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s never really given me an answer. He just ignores my calls lately.”

Well, if Sakurai and Matsumoto had agreed to come, then it was up to Ohno to get the final member to join the celebration. Matsumoto had already called Aiba the day before, demanding that they have their celebratory dinner at Baccanale instead of another restaurant Aiba had in mind. Ohno and Aiba had seen right through him - Matsumoto was looking to show off.

“Are you sure he’s home?” Ohno asked, gesturing to the windows on the third floor. The curtains were drawn, and the lights were off.

“Oh, he’s there,” Aiba said with a smile. “The newest game in his favorite series came out yesterday. He probably hasn’t left the building since he got home with it.”

“And you think he’d interrupt his game time to listen to me?”

Aiba wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Delivery-san, you’re a miracle worker. If anyone can get him to pause his controller, I’m sure you can.”

Ohno was not comforted with this knowledge, but he couldn’t let Aiba down. He took the box Aiba held out to him and hopped out of the truck. In his delivery uniform, he was easily buzzed inside. The doorman offered to accept the package on Ninomiya’s behalf, but Ohno used his most winning singing delivery man smile to convince the man that his job wasn’t complete until he delivered his song too.

That got him into the elevator and soon enough he was poised outside Ninomiya’s door. It was a little mean, pulling this sort of trick, but it was probably the only way to get a gamer zombie off the couch. He pushed the buzzer beside Ninomiya’s door, putting on his game face. He ended up standing there for 20 minutes, alternating between buzzing and knocking while he heard little “pew pew pew” and “stabby stabby” noises coming from the sound system within the condo.

He knocked again, holding up the box. “Ninomiya Kazunari, this is a delivery from the Swift and Speedy Singers. You’ve just won a lifetime supply of Cup Noodle, and I’m here to present you with the first installment…”

The “pew pew pew” noises finally came to a halt. In a few moments, he heard the crackle of the intercom. Ninomiya was just on the other side of the door, probably watching Ohno through a camera.

“Show some identification, please,” said a rather amused voice.

Ohno fumbled with the box, yanking his company credentials from his pocket. “Ohno Satoshi, Swift and Speedy.”

“Open the box. Let me see what’s in it.”

Ohno did as told, pulling a box cutter from his back pocket and slitting the box up the middle. He and Aiba had packed it to the brim with Cup Noodle, and they made swishing noises as he tilted the box so Ninomiya could see inside.

“Now sing.”

Ohno stared at the door, confused. “Sir, we usually don’t perform without an audience.”

“I’m watching. Go ahead.”

He blushed. “Uh…”

“Well, go on,” Ninomiya said, and Ohno heard his fist thump the door. “Impress me. Tell me everything about Cup Noodle through the magic of the human voice.”

His song, of course, had been intended for _after_ Ninomiya opened the door. Because the song he’d rehearsed was about Aiba, and not at all about Cup Noodle. Ohno was the absolute worst at thinking on his feet, and he stammered out a lame apology.

“What was that?” came Ninomiya’s voice. “Didn’t hear you. I ought to call up your company right now and lodge a complaint…”

Noodles are very tasty! 

Ohno’s voice shattered the silence of the condo hallway as he dropped the box and flung his arms out triumphantly.

They’re…they’re something you should never…waste-y…  
You just add hot water, so you can…be pretty…hasty… 

“Now dance,” Ninomiya demanded. “Like you mean it.”

Completely out of lyrics, Ohno repeated the three pathetic lines over and over as he swayed to and fro in the hallway, twirling until he was dizzy. This was for Aiba’s sake, he told himself. He couldn’t fail!

“Don’t stop, keep going.”

Noodles are very tasty!  
They’re something you should never waste-y!  
You just add hot water so you can be pretty hasty! 

“Pelvic thrusts, make it sexy!” Ninomiya ordered. “Sexier than that, come on!”

Ohno turned redder than an apple, plastering himself against the wall opposite Ninomiya’s door, dry humping it. He could never, ever tell Aiba about this. “Noodles,” he sang in a low voice, slapping his hands against the wall and slinking up and down, tossing what he hoped was his sexiest look back over his shoulder in Ninomiya’s direction. “Noodles are sooooo very tasty!”

He turned back around, wiggling his hips with a come hither stare. He went for some sexy falsetto. “Now don’t you go, I said don’t you go and be waaaaaaste-yyyyy!”

“Now bring it home!” Ninomiya cheered through the intercom. “Strip!”

He unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, one at a time as he shook his ass. “Noodles and seasoning, I said now just put that…mmm yeahhh just put that hot water innnnnnn!”

Ohno was just at his belt buckle when Ninomiya’s door suddenly opened, and a slim, cynical-looking man stood there with his phone, snapping a picture.

“Tell Aiba-chan I’m not coming to his stupid reunion. Bye,” Ninomiya said with a wink before slamming the door in Ohno’s face. 

He stood there, fingers on the zipper of his pants, as he heard the game system start up again.


	2. Chapter 2

He sat with Aiba in his kitchen, slurping up the Cup Noodle later that evening. “I’m really sorry,” Aiba kept apologizing. “He can be really mean sometimes.”

“No kidding.”

To add insult to injury, Nino had sent Aiba a picture message once they’d left. Attached was the photo of Ohno with his shirt open, dancing in the hallway. “Next time,” Ninomiya’s message had said, “don’t be stupid enough to park across the street.”

Aiba got up from the table, floating up to grab a packet of dog treats from a cabinet without having to even stretch out his fingers. He opened it up, leaving some on the floor for his cheerful dogs. “It was cruel, doing that to you. If you want to quit, I’ll understand completely…”

But Ninomiya’s humiliation of him had only spurred him on. He wasn’t going to give up now. “I’m not quitting,” he vowed. “I had a good look at him, and he’s not so big. I’ll drag him to the restaurant if I have to, Aiba-chan.”

Aiba came back to the table, picking up his chopsticks. “It really is fine if it’s just me and Sho-kun and Jun-kun…”

“No,” Ohno insisted. “It’s going to be all four of you, and that’s a promise.”

When he left that evening, he told a little white lie, that he and Aiba would try again in a few days once Nino had probably beaten his game and was more receptive to socializing. Instead, Ohno got on his bike and pedaled all the way across town to Ninomiya’s building. Ohno could sometimes be a smart guy, and he’d memorized Ninomiya’s cell phone number when he’d sent Aiba the humiliating picture.

He rode his bike around to the back of the condo building, hopping the security fence into the yard. There was a swimming pool back there, covered in a tarp, and he pulled it away after making sure the coast was clear. There was a light that shone right on the pool deck to illuminate him, and Ohno pulled out his phone, dialing Ninomiya’s number. He let it ring and ring and ring, and when it was obvious Ninomiya wasn’t answering, he sent a quick text.

_Look outside for your free Cup Noodle!_

A few moments later he heard the slide of a window opening on the third floor, and a head poked out. His cell phone buzzed a few seconds later.

_Not interested!!!!!!!!!!_

Ohno diligently typed out another message, staring defiantly up at the third floor as he pressed SEND.

_I’m not so good at holding my breath underwater._

His phone buzzed again.

_So???_

Knowing that the man upstairs was still watching him, Ohno set down his phone on the pool deck. At least from a distance, Ninomiya couldn’t see him shivering in fear. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and then unbuckled his belt. In a few moments, he was stripped down to his boxer shorts. He offered a quick wave up at Ninomiya and then jumped into the pool.

This had probably been a very bad call. The chlorine burned his eyes, and his body protested as he let himself sink all the way down to the bottom. It was dark, and he couldn’t see a damn thing. The seconds ticked by, and he refused to surface. He was going to be out of breath soon - he hadn’t actually been lying about that. Even as his lungs started burning, and he grew desperate for air, he forced himself to stay under. 

Because if there was one thing Ohno Satoshi knew, it was that the Storm Saviors were good people at heart. They’d gone their separate ways, sure, but to spend years of your life fighting crime, putting yourself at risk time and time again…there weren’t many people who would do that for strangers. It took a special kind of person to do that.

Just when he thought his plan was going to backfire, he heard a muffled noise. A splash maybe, and in seconds someone else was in the water with him. Before he could react, the other person was tugging on him, hauling him up. They broke the surface and Ohno coughed, spitting out water and sucking in gulps of air. Just when he was feeling a little better he got smacked in the head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ninomiya was screaming at him, his arm still around his waist and keeping him afloat. “Did Masaki talk you into this?”

“Of course not,” Ohno mumbled, coughing.

Nino tugged them along to the edge of the pool, and he was stronger than he looked, getting them both out of the pool and onto the deck. They both lay there, side by side, Ohno’s chest heaving from his silly stunt. 

“I’m not a lifeguard, you know,” Nino said, his t-shirt and jeans soaked through. His hair was plastered to his face, making him look like he might have been the one who’d nearly drowned. “And my CPR’s rusty. If you’d been down there any longer…”

“I knew you’d come.”

“Your faith in me is astonishing. And really fucking stupid,” the other man shot back, sounding irritated.

He turned his head, grinning at the sight of Ninomiya, who’d left his precious game behind to hurry down the stairs and rescue some idiot from the swimming pool. Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been that deep, no real challenge to someone who could breathe underwater indefinitely, but still…

“I knew you’d come,” Ohno repeated, chuckling.

Ninomiya sighed, getting to his feet. “Well, this is the second time today I’ve watched you strip for me. You’d better come upstairs then.”

—

Ohno found himself inside Ninomiya’s condo. There were multiple TVs for some reason, all big massive screens. The rest of the place was simply appointed, neatly arranged. Nothing like Aiba’s veritable farm. Despite his outwardly hostile behavior earlier that day, Nino took care of him as soon as they got inside, drawing him a hot bath and finding some clothes for him.

Refreshed from the bath and clad in an Eight Rangers fan t-shirt and sweatpants, Ohno emerged into Nino’s living room, finding him waiting with some convenience store melon bread on the table.

“Sit down,” Nino commanded, gesturing to a cushion beside him. Ohno did as ordered. “Now,” Nino said, tearing open the wrapper of one of the melon breads and taking a healthy bite of it. He didn’t seem to care if he was spitting crumbs out while he talked. “I’m guessing you won’t leave until I agree to come to this stupid party, is that right?”

Ohno felt rather embarrassed. “That was the plan.”

“Why do you care so much about a bunch of washed-up superheroes anyway?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, Aiba-chan’s a really nice person, and I don’t like seeing him so upset. He’s really depressed about this, you know.”

“I do,” Nino admitted, the wrapper crinkling in his rather small hands. “But it’s complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about having dinner with old friends?”

“Well, I’m in love with one of them, for a start,” he said bluntly, and Ohno nearly choked on the air in his mouth.

“Whoa, what?”

Nino shut his eyes, sighing in irritation. “Delivery-san…”

“Ohno. My name is Ohno,” he insisted, thumping his index finger on the table. He wasn’t going to let this keep happening.

“Ohno-san,” Nino replied pointedly, using his name. “I think it would be awkward to be in the same room with one of them, so I simply choose not to attend.”

“Why? Does he not like you in return?”

Nino looked down at his melon bread, and his rather prickly exterior wavered. There was a striking vulnerability to him now, and he didn’t seem to mind if Ohno saw it. His shoulders slumped, and his fingers worried themselves in the bread wrapper. Who was it? Was it Aiba, his dear childhood friend? Was it Sakurai? That one would be especially impossible, since Sakurai had a wife and kids. 

“Jun-kun, I’ve known him half my life,” Nino admitted. “And I’ve loved him for at least half of that half. You’ve met him already?”

The world’s most handsome Italian chef? Ohno understood the attraction, even if the guy was kind of crazy. He nodded and let Nino continue.

“We always worked well together. He can be a pain in the ass, but that’s not everything about him. He’s nice, generous, things that I’m not…”

Ohno would beg to differ, seeing as how Ninomiya had so quickly come to his rescue just a short time ago, but he held his tongue.

“And we gave it a try, kind of. It was awful timing though, just when the Eight Rangers came to town. And when he wanted to fight them, I didn’t really want to. What could I bring to a fight anyway? My power’s so pointless.” He nibbled on his bread nervously. “But if it was three against one, I thought he’d give up on us being together. That he’d dump me. It was a selfish decision then, going against Sho-chan and Aiba-chan. But I thought it would make him happy, taking his side.”

“It didn’t?”

Nino smiled, a bittersweet smile that made Ohno feel awful for him. “Maybe if I’d sided with the others, he would have changed his mind. We could have co-existed with the Rangers, split up our territory, that sort of thing. But there was nothing Jun liked more than saving the day. By taking his side, it drove a wedge in the group that couldn’t be fixed. He blames Aiba-chan for it, and unfairly. It’s all my fault. I could have made a different choice. I could have tried to talk him down. I took everything away from him that made him happy, well, outside his restaurant at least. And it affected Sho and Masaki too. All those years they kept me with them even when I was so useless, and that was how I paid them back.”

Ohno could see how hurt Ninomiya was, the years of torment he’d probably put himself through. No wonder he shut himself up in his house. No wonder he didn’t want to meet up with the others. Though Ohno Satoshi had gone most of his life keeping to himself, not interfering in things that weren’t his business, there was a strange feeling taking over his heart. He’d been unable to walk away from Captain Chiba. And now The Human Fish, The Guppy, whatever, needed him just as much.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” he said quietly. “For you and Mister Marvelous.”

Nino snorted, looking at Ohno fondly. “What can you possibly do?”

Ninomiya Kazunari was small, average looking, and well on his way to a receding hairline. He couldn’t fly and he certainly couldn’t shoot sparks. But despite the humiliating striptease, despite everything, Ohno couldn’t help but like him. He had a big heart and was mostly just embarrassed about showing it. He deserved to be happy.

“I’ve met Matsumoto-san and if there’s one thing I learned about him, it’s that he likes a bit of competition. So…” Ohno decided to be bold, reaching out and taking Ninomiya’s hand. “Let’s make him jealous.”

Ninomiya laughed, this time without an ounce of cynicism. “I ought to throw you back in that pool.”

—

Aiba had been a little concerned about the added complication to his reunion plans, but the love he had for his friends seemed to win out. He’d apparently had no idea that Matsumoto and Ninomiya had been an item back in the day, but after several days of being friends, Ohno figured that Aiba was a flighty person in multiple ways.

With Aiba’s blessing and encouragement, Ohno and Nino set their plan in motion. If Nino and Mister Marvelous were able to rekindle their past romance, then Nino would agree to attend the anniversary dinner. If Ohno’s ambitious plan just made things worse, then it was likely Nino would retreat back into his condo and into the loving embrace of his half-dozen television sets. Aiba, however, was convinced that love would succeed.

“That’s your superpower, Delivery-san,” Aiba told him proudly. “You just make things happen.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, really, Aiba-chan, but thanks,” he’d replied, unable to hide a smile.

Aiba’s money burning a hole in his pocket, Ohno once again entered Baccanale, this time with Nino in tow. Though Matsumoto had said Ohno was banned last time, nobody in the restaurant seemed to know about it, and the staff got them a prime table just in front of the kitchen glass like his previous visit. 

Nino had cleaned up, having emerged from his hermit kingdom. His hair was combed properly, and he looked rather handsome in his suit and purple tie. “Purple for Mister Marvelous, of course,” he’d admitted in embarrassment when Ohno had picked him up in the Swift and Speedy truck earlier that evening.

“Last time he served me himself,” Ohno said, glancing into the kitchen where the chef was as sparkling as some of the pyrotechnic energy plasmoids he could shoot off. He and Nino spent more than a few appreciative minutes watching him work, watching him scream at his staff. 

There was a wicked glint in Nino’s eye. “Well, nobody makes a veal chop quite as good as Jun does.”

They slipped some money to the waiter, and this time when Matsumoto emerged from the kitchen with meats, cheeses, and tapenade for two, he nearly dropped the plates when he got to the table.

He saved face quickly, clearing his throat as he set them down. “Nino, good to see you.” And Ohno could tell from the slightest quiver of his chin that he meant it.

Nino had seen it too, and there was a slightly hopeful lilt to his simple reply. “Jun.”

A faint little spark skipped across Ohno’s plate as Matsumoto struggled to keep a pleasant face. “And my friend from the other night. Thank you for once again patronizing Baccanale.”

“Well, everything tasted so good, I knew I had to bring Kazu here.”

Matsumoto gaped at them, snuffing out another round of sparks against his apron. Nino looked down, feigning embarrassment. “Fancy that, Aiba-chan somehow met my boyfriend and told him to round us all up for the anniversary. Small world, isn’t it?”

“Your _boyfriend_ ,” Matsumoto replied, not looking so marvelous.

Ohno reached his hand across the table, across the tapenade, and Nino took it. “I had no idea that all this time Kazu was really…well, you know…” He lowered his voice. “Super.”

Matsumoto’s smile was forced. “Please enjoy the antipasti sampler. Your first course will arrive once it’s perfect.”

As soon as the chef had returned to his kitchen, Ohno made to withdraw his hand from Nino’s, but Nino only squeezed harder. His eyes were a nervous sort of happy, and he was biting his lip.

“It’s going to be alright,” Ohno assured him, trying to stifle his own feelings. Seeing Matsumoto Jun again, the barely contained temper, his haughty handsome features…it was enough to make him light-headed. But then he was supposed to be here to help him reconnect with Nino. Nino who had just saved his life a few nights ago, holding him close as they got out of the pool. Nino who’d so easily told him everything.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be alright at all.

—

Matsumoto had given them so much wine on the house that Ohno thought his bladder would burst. He apologized to Nino, leaving him alone at the table to poke at their delicious dessert, and made his way to the bathroom. Relief flooded through him even as he tried to remain upright and aim properly at the urinal. It was good to get away from the dining room. Everything they ate had been more amazing than the plate that came before it. Glass after glass of wine had washed it down. 

When Matsumoto Jun came by, his dark eyes flashing with jealousy and eagerness to please, words like “tagliatelle” and “saltimbocca” sliding off his tongue and into their ears, Ohno knew he was in deep trouble. But then when Matsumoto had vanished back into his kitchen, there’d been Nino in front of him, moving his food around his plate and telling jokes. Smiling at Ohno like he was the only person in the room, even with the glass just separating them from the kitchen. He liked them both, he realized as he zipped up and headed for the sinks. Matsumoto and Ninomiya. Fire and water and Ohno in the middle.

What was he going to do now?

He was just drying his hands when the bathroom door opened behind him. Looking into the mirror, he gulped at the sight of Matsumoto Jun, who entered and twisted the lock behind him.

“There’s…there’s someone pooping in the last stall,” he hissed, the paper towel fluttering out of his hands in his nervousness.

Matsumoto arched a thick eyebrow at him. “No there isn’t.”

Ohno shrugged. “Maybe…maybe I have to poop. And you should leave.”

But Matsumoto was undeterred, and an array of sparks shot past Ohno’s shoulder, burrowing safely into the sink behind him. He was in Ohno’s space then, his fingers holding tight to his chin.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Mr. Sing-Song?”

Well, that one was new, and Ohno tried to stay calm, fixing Matsumoto with what he hoped was a menacing glare but was more likely a pathetic frown. “Taking…taking Kazu out to d-d-dinner.”

“Did you enjoy your d-d-dinner?” Matsumoto mocked him, coming so close Ohno could smell his breath. He was rather minty. Clearly he didn’t sample from the kitchen until after they closed up for the evening.

“Well, yeah. You’re a good cook.”

Matsumoto’s grip on him tightened, and Ohno hated how much he liked it. He’d always been a rather masochistic sort of person. “What are you really doing here?”

“I’m trying to help you actually?”

“By making me watch you feed each other meatballs? That was disgusting, by the way.”

Ohno blushed. Well, Nino’s meatballs had been different, and so they’d swapped, and they’d had so much wine by that point that there seemed to be no harm in feeding each other and…

“You’re so weird!” Matsumoto complained, letting him go and turning aside, a shimmering burst of white-hot sparks erupting from him and sizzling out in the urinal water. He was pacing the floor, seeming to be holding back from doing any further damage to his restaurant’s men’s room.

“Do you still love him?” Ohno blurted out.

Matsumoto glared at him in response.

“He’s too embarrassed to go to the reunion. Because of you.”

The chef rolled his eyes. “But he had no problem coming here tonight with the likes of you.”

He decided not to take offense to that. “Then…then do something about it. If you like him, then do something about it.”

Matsumoto made a rather strange face at him. “Are you telling me to steal him away from you? Does all your brain power go to musical composition instead of logical thought?”

He looked down at his shoes. “I’m just trying to help. I’m really Keio Boy’s fan, remember? I won’t get in the way…”

Matsumoto unlocked the door and then leaned back against the wall, sighing. “Finish your dessert and get out of here, alright? Everything’s on the house. And tell Masaki I’m making cannoli for the party.”

Ohno fled the bathroom, catching Nino in the middle of stuffing some leftover rolls in the pocket of his suit jacket. For someone with the kind of money he had, he was awfully thrifty. “Something wrong?” Nino asked, looking at him curiously. His gaze wasn’t as steady as it had been when they’d arrived. He was as drunk as Ohno had been before his bathroom encounter with Matsumoto Jun had sobered him up quickly.

“Jun wants to see you,” Ohno lied, gesturing behind him to the bathroom. “He says the meal’s on him tonight.”

“He wants to see me?” Nino asked, eyes bulging. “Right now?”

Ohno nodded, trying to smile. “Yeah.”

Nino stumbled to his feet, giving Ohno’s shoulder a squeeze. His smile was completely genuine, his eyes full of warmth and gratitude. “Thank you. I don’t know what you said to him, but thank you.”

And like that Nino was gone. Well, he bumped into an ice bucket perched at the side of another table and knocked it over, but after that he was gone, heading for the bathroom and the person he’d loved for a very long time.

Ohno left the keys to the Swift and Speedy truck with the valet parking guy, saying he’d come pick it up in the morning when he was sober. Instead he walked all the way across town with a heavy heart, confusion filling him up more than even Matsumoto’s pasta had.

He found his way into Aiba Masaki’s back yard. Aiba always waited until after dark to do it; that was what Ohno had learned that day they’d met. He leaned against the side of Aiba’s house, staying quiet as Aiba gracefully flew up into the high branches of the tree, detaching his feeders one by one. Down to the ground he went, humming to himself as he refilled them before gliding back up to return them. He made it seem so simple, his gift, his power. 

Satisfied with a job well done, he sealed up his jumbo bag of birdseed and was heading back inside when he spotted Ohno in the shadows. “Delivery-san?”

Ohno nodded, stepping into the light of Aiba’s back porch. “Good news. I think your reunion’s going to be a complete success, Aiba-chan.”

His face lit up like a Christmas tree. “What? Really? Ninomi’s gonna come? We’re all going to be together?”

Ohno nodded, trying to smile for Aiba’s sake. The former Captain Chiba was so happy that he wrapped Ohno up in a cheerful hug. They started floating off the ground, and Ohno held on tight. And not because he was afraid of falling.

—

Baccanale was closed to the public the night of the Storm Saviors reunion, not that they were advertising it as such. The sign out front merely read “Closed for a Private Event.”

Mister Marvelous himself was doing all the cooking, having dismissed the entire kitchen and wait staff. Though he was the Sous-Chef and not the Executive Chef, he seemed to have enough pull in the restaurant to make it all happen. Ohno had been invited to attend, and Aiba had insisted upon it even when he tried to decline. After all, he hadn’t been a member of the Storm Saviors and there was no reason for him to be there.

And not only that, he didn’t really _want_ to be there. When he’d gone back the morning after to reclaim the Swift and Speedy truck, he’d hidden behind a bush as Matsumoto and Ninomiya had come walking up the street from the other direction. Nino had been wearing the same clothes as the night before, though they were a bit more disheveled. Ohno had looked away when Nino had pulled the taller Matsumoto down for a rather possessive, romantic kiss. The sparks (plasmoids!) that had fallen from Matsumoto’s hands then had been of a far happier variety, shooting up into the sky in a cheerful rainbow Ohno had been unable to avoid seeing.

What was the point in being jealous, he kept asking himself. He barely knew either of them, and they had a love story that had been interrupted by a misunderstanding. Now they were here, the four Storm Saviors, and it wasn’t even as awkward as Aiba had anticipated. For one, baby pictures seemed to be a universal ice breaker, and Sakurai was passing around his phone to show off pictures of his toddler girl and baby boy respectively.

While Aiba cooed at the photos and Nino teased the former Keio Boy about “going soft,” Ohno tried to keep it together. Jun brought out the first round of food, setting plates down, and the heated looks passing between him and Nino were so obvious that Aiba told them to “get a room when this is over, would ya?” At that Sakurai claimed that he’d known all along about the Mister Marvelous and Human Fish relationship while Aiba called him a “muscle-headed liar.” All four had a good laugh, sipping on their wine and reminiscing about all their adventures.

Fifteen years was a long time, and Ohno could tell that they had all missed each other way more than they’d have ever admitted. It had been a silly disagreement, a petty disagreement, they all agreed, and as the wine kept flowing, they smiled more, laughed more, passed Sakurai’s phone around and took pictures. By the time the special cannoli came out, Ohno wondered if they remembered he was there.

But they did, Aiba stabbing a thin candle into one of the cannolis and letting Jun spark a flame to light it. Aiba pushed the plate in front of Ohno. 

“It’s not my birthday,” Ohno insisted quietly.

“It’s all because of you that this party was possible,” Aiba insisted. “Thank you so much, Delivery-san.”

“For goodness sake, he has a name!” Nino shouted. He met Ohno’s gaze with a sincere smile. “His name is Ohno, and he’s the best damn singer I’ve ever met. Go on, blow out the candle and do the Cup Noodle song.”

Ohno wanted to sink under the table and die, but then Aiba was clapping him on the shoulder in encouragement.

“What the hell is the Cup Noodle song?” Sakurai asked, shoving a fourth cannoli in his face.

All four were looking at him expectantly, and Ohno reluctantly got to his feet. Nino started a clap of encouragement, and Aiba joined him. Unsure what was happening, Sakurai and Matsumoto clapped along with confusion in their faces.

Ohno cleared his throat. Maybe his true superpower was just doing what would make other people happy, regardless of his own feelings.

Arms spread wide, he only got out “Noodles are very tasty!” before the explosion hit.

The glass windows at the front of Baccanale shattered, and before Matsumoto could launch his plasmoids or Aiba could fly out of his seat, four paralyzing darts came flying through the room, striking all four of the Storm Saviors.

“No!” Ohno shouted, turning in confusion to see several men in colorful jumpsuits hop over the rubble they’d caused, entering the room.

Sakurai, dart sticking out of his shoulder, was crawling across the floor. “Ohno-san, run! Hurry!” But a man in a Black jumpsuit fired another dart, knocking the strong Sakurai out. 

While the Orange, Red, and Blue jump-suited men made sure that Aiba, Matsumoto, and Ninomiya were unconscious, the Yellow and Green ones grabbed hold of Ohno. “What’s going on?” Ohno asked them. The seventh one, a fellow with fanged canine teeth in a Purple jumpsuit, smiled.

“You think we haven’t been watching? We know what they’re up to. And this town is ours, you know.”

Ohno counted the jumpsuits. “Wait, why are there only seven of you?”

Purple, the leader of the Eight Rangers, merely sighed. “That’s complicated.” He gestured to his companions. “Bag him.”

—

Ohno found himself in a nondescript warehouse, an all too typical “bad guy” hideout. He was tied to a pole in the center of the room, and he was very uncomfortable. Mostly because he was rather full from dinner and needed to use the bathroom.

This plea fell on deaf ears. The Eight Rangers had really gone low effort since their days of fighting crime here in Storm City. They’d put a bag over Ohno’s head and driven him across town so slowly, he knew exactly where they were. The dockyards along the Pikanchi River. Ohno was a delivery man, after all, he knew the city pretty well. The bag itself smelled like broccoli, and when they took it off his head, he recognized it as one of the bags from the Storm City Finer Foods grocery store downtown. 

Still in their colorful jumpsuits and helmets, the Rangers hadn’t harmed him. They mostly seemed to be full of nervous excitement. After all, the last Ohno had heard of them, they’d done a ribbon cutting for a new library in the suburbs. The police seemed to be managing petty theft and the occasional disturbance without their help.

“You really shouldn’t have done that. Now they’re going to come after you,” Ohno said, wriggling around in a bit of an “I have to pee” dance. “I thought you were good guys?”

Most of the Rangers looked amongst themselves, but the pale Black Ranger had only a sneer to offer. “We _are_ good guys. But we can’t risk them reforming. This is our city now.”

“It’s not really. And I miss Infinity City,” Blue pointed out. “My mom keeps asking when I’m going to stop by…”

“How many grocery stores do we really need to help open?” Red continued, grumbling under his breath.

“I don’t know, the big scissors we use to cut the ribbons are pretty cool though,” Orange argued, crossing his arms.

“Oi! Enough!” Purple shouted, chastising his friends. “United front! United front!”

Ohno sighed. “Are you guys for real?”

The seven of them started arguing again, and they were really damn noisy. The Storm Saviors had really made a huge mistake thinking these guys were any sort of threat to them. While they were busy fighting, Ohno heard a quiet little tap on the warehouse wall. Looking up to the windows, which were at least thirty feet off the ground, he saw Aiba waving and smiling at him. Ohno felt a surge of gratitude, knowing Aiba had come to his rescue. But he also knew that the Eight Rangers had more debilitating darts, and he didn’t want his friend to be hurt.

With the Rangers paying him no mind, Ohno tried to figure out what gestures Aiba was making through the window at him. Eventually Aiba’s face disappeared and Nino appeared, floating nervously. Aiba had clearly flown back up to the window, carrying him. Thankfully Nino had been smart enough to write things down on a sign.

_WE NEED YOU TO DISTRACT THEM. SING!!!!!!_

Ohno merely nodded, and Nino gave a thumbs up before he, Aiba, and the sign vanished again.

He started off quietly, doing his best to come up with something decent. Instead of coming up with something on the spot, he used some of his old standbys from the job. Nino said they needed a distraction, not necessarily a masterpiece.

Your delivery is here, and today’s a special day!  
We heard that it’s your birthday, so a present now is due!  
Thanks for being wonderful, in every single way  
And thanks of course to Mom for always giving birth to you 

“Wait,” Yellow interrupted him. “That doesn’t make sense. _Always_ giving birth?”

“Like every single year?” Green muttered, scratching his head. By now all seven of them had turned to listen and argue about the lyrics. Ohno smiled, singing louder and trying to drown them out.

Happy anniversary! From your friends at Swift and Speedy!  
Your husband’s got a gift for you, my goodness, yes indeed-y! 

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” Purple screeched, but before Ohno could continue, a strong punch from Keio Boy knocked down the massive doors in the front of the warehouse. 

It devolved into chaos in only a matter of moments. Before the Rangers could get to their dart guns, Aiba was zooming around, dive bombing almost like a bird and knocking them in the helmets with his fists. Matsumoto was sending off plasmoids, and Sakurai had already punched one of them hard enough to send him flying into two of his other friends. Ohno suspected all of them could have attacked with more force, but they were holding back a little so nobody got truly hurt. Ohno was also a little disappointed that the four of them were wearing the same clothes from the restaurant and not their costumes.

Nino’s voice was right at Ohno’s ear then. “You really have a great voice, but for the love of god, have someone else write your songs.”

Ohno frowned. “But they rhyme…”

“Rhyming isn’t everything,” Nino chuckled, loosening the knots in the rope tying Ohno to the pole. By the time Nino got Ohno untied, Matsumoto had cornered the seven Eight Rangers into a cluster, a ring of fire surrounding them.

“You guys disbanded!” Black was shouting at them. “You dumped this city on us, and now all of a sudden you want it back?”

“We don’t want it back,” Sakurai shouted, cracking his knuckles loud enough to send Blue and Red into each other’s arms in fright. “We retired.”

“Well then…let us go and we’ll keep doing your job!” Purple screamed.

“What job is that again?” Matsumoto said with a laugh. “Helping old ladies cross the street and then expecting a tip for good service?”

“We don’t expect tips anymore!” Yellow complained. He looked at his feet. “City full of cheapskates if you ask me…”

“What are you so mad about anyway?” Black grumbled.

“You think you can kidnap our friend and assume we won’t do something about it?” Aiba cried, barely able to keep his feet on the ground in his anger.

Ohno felt a surge of happiness course through him. Well, that or he’d finally forgotten that he really had to pee. He was their friend. He was the Storm Saviors’ friend!

“Enough! I wanna go home!” Green complained, stomping his feet. “I’m sick of grocery stores!”

“Green, shut up!” Purple hissed, but his companions were starting to turn the tide.

Blue, Red, Yellow, Orange, and Green got down on their hands and knees, bowing low to the Storm Saviors in apology. Purple and Black knew it was over. They didn’t kneel, but they mumbled an apology for the attack. Unsatisfied with the short fight, Matsumoto managed to singe the butt of Purple’s uniform, demanding the Eight Rangers pay for the repairs to Baccanale.

While Aiba, Sakurai, and Matsumoto remained behind to iron out details about the Eight Rangers’ pending exodus, Nino took Ohno by the hand and walked him out of the warehouse. It was an odd feeling, holding hands with Nino. Odd because he could have sworn that Nino was in love with Mister Marvelous in all his sparkly glory. 

The Swift and Speedy truck was parked in the warehouse lot, right beside the Rangers’ own truck. How had they all protected Storm City for so long?

They stood there, looking up at the stars for a few moments, Nino not letting go of his hand. 

“That’s twice you’ve saved me then,” Ohno said quietly. “Thank you.”

“The first time you jumped in a swimming pool of your own volition. And this time all I did was untie you,” Nino said.

“You still saved me. I appreciate it.” He looked down at their joined hands and finally slipped his away. “I wouldn’t want Jun-kun to see. Now that you’re…now that you and him are…”

Nino nudged his shoulder, sighing. “Don’t misunderstand, Ohno-san. I do love Jun-kun. A lot, actually, but that doesn’t mean…well…”

“Hmm?”

“Within five minutes of meeting you, you almost stripped down to your underwear for me with little prompting. And then a few hours later, you actually did strip down to your underwear. Of course it was because you wanted to help Masaki, but I really liked what I saw.” Nino chuckled merrily when Ohno was stunned into silence. “I’m trying to say that Jun-kun and I are pretty open minded. You like him too, don’t you?”

He blushed, grateful for the darkness hiding his reaction. “I’d be lying if I said no.”

“You getting kidnapped kind of put a damper on our evening plans, but now that you’re safe again…”

“Wait,” Ohno said, staring at Nino in confusion. “What evening plans?”

“The evening plan where the fifteenth anniversary celebration ends on a peaceful note, then Aiba-chan and Sho-kun go back home to their cats and screaming children, respectively, and then you come home with me and Jun.”

Ohno looked to see if Nino had a camera somewhere, if he was waiting to take a picture or record Ohno’s humiliation once more. If this was one big joke. Instead he felt Nino’s fingers twine with his again.

“That is, if you’d like to come home with us.”

“What do you even like about me? You two, you’re…you’re superheroes.”

“Jun says you told him you were Keio Boy’s fan now. He was hoping he could change your mind.” He could feel Nino draw closer, his breath so close to his ear. “Have you ever slept with a perfectionist before?”

Ohno’s blush had probably spread from his face to the tips of his toes by now. “I can’t say that I have.”

“Well,” Nino said, chuckling quietly. “There’s a first time for everything.”

—

It had been a very strange few weeks for Ohno Satoshi, but nothing was stranger than sitting in Ninomiya Kazunari’s living room waiting for Mister Marvelous to arrive. So they could have a celebratory “we defeated the Eight Rangers” threesome.

Apparently when Ohno had been kidnapped, they’d all dropped everything to track him down. This had of course left Baccanale with considerable damage, so it seemed like Jun would be late. Ohno found himself nervously sitting across the living room floor from Nino, who kept grinning at him.

“Have you ever…done this before?”

“Me, Jun-kun, and someone else? God no.”

Ohno shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep his foot from falling asleep. “And you’re sure it’s okay with him?”

Nino rolled his eyes. He’d even shown Ohno his phone earlier, the device littered with surprisingly sweet messages from Jun implying just how excited he was for “tonight’s activities.” Ohno had always considered himself an open-minded person, but he’d never done anything like this before either. But the fact that they’d rescued him, that they wanted him this way…

Well, he was sure it wouldn’t be so bad. The waiting, though, that was the hard part.

By the time midnight rolled around, Nino was growing bored. “We could get started without him,” Nino suggested. “Just because if we don’t I’m liable to turn that game console on, and you’ll have to fuck him without me.”

Nino’s coarseness made Ohno chuckle. It certainly wasn’t a bad suggestion. He scooted across the floor a bit, getting closer. “So your superpower, it’s just breathing underwater?”

Nino scooted himself closer in return until he was easing himself into Ohno’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck as though they’d been the best of friends for years instead of whatever it was they were. “If you’re trying to ask if we can go down to the pool so I can give you an underwater blow job, the answer is no.”

Ohno laughed, liking the weight of Nino on top of him, the lazy way his fingers were drifting up and down the side of his face. It was pretty obvious what he felt for Jun, but that didn’t seem to factor in at the present moment. All his attentions were on him, and he felt rather important. Then again, he’d played the vital role of “damsel in distress” that evening, so tensions were high.

Eventually they stopped talking, and he wasn’t surprised when Nino kissed him first, with a possessiveness that startled him. He laughed against Nino’s mouth when he snuck his hand under his shirt, giving his nipple a rather rough twist. If he’d said no to Aiba Masaki that morning, or if he hadn’t been the one assigned to deliver that birdseed, then none of this would have ever happened. He was the luckiest singing delivery man in Storm City.

“You can kiss back, you know,” Nino whispered, nipping gently at his bottom lip.

“Oh,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

They stayed that way, Nino stealing his breath and doing things with his tongue that were making Ohno worry that he was going to come in his pants before Jun even arrived. He’d be lying there, completely spent, and he’d get zapped for being selfish. Nino, however, seemed to be aiming for that, so intent was he in letting Ohno know how badly he wanted him. His hands were insistent, inside Ohno’s t-shirt trying to touch every inch of skin he could with the same devotion he probably put into his precious games.

Nino was just about to tug down the zipper of Ohno’s jeans when there was an impatient knock at the door. “Ah, just when we were getting somewhere,” he muttered, brushing his fingers over Ohno’s already tender mouth. “He’s greedy, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Ohno was left right there in the middle of the living room floor, hard and straining against the fabric of his jeans as Nino opened the door wide. The forceful and exacting Mister Marvelous strolled in, his fingers slipping along the crotch of Nino’s pants teasingly as he entered.

At the sight of Ohno there on the floor, waiting, he actually laughed. “He looks shell shocked, what did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Nino said, grinning as he slipped his arms around Jun from behind. “Sure took your sweet time getting here. Maybe I should have gone for Aiba-chan, at least he could have flown here.”

Ohno watched as Jun turned in Nino’s grasp, and in seconds he had the smaller man pushed up against the door. Nino let out a gasp of pleasure at the impact. 

Jun’s voice was just on the edge of dangerous. “Ohno-san, has he been smarting off like that all this time?”

“Ah…sort of?”

Nino seemed thrilled to be at Jun’s mercy, allowing him to lift his arms up and pin them over his head. Then Jun was there, greedily kissing the mouth that only moments earlier had been on Ohno’s. Nino seemed perfectly content to let Jun run the show, leaning up into his kiss as Jun’s free hand teased up and down his sides. Ohno felt a little abandoned, like maybe he should have cleared his throat in reminder of his presence, but soon Jun let Nino go, his eyes traveling to meet Ohno’s faster than one of his silly plasmoids could have.

“I’m not usually the sharing type, but Nino said you stripped for him before. I was hoping you could maybe do that for us together.”

Ohno gulped, stumbling to his feet and reaching for his t-shirt instantly. Jun laughed, waving his hand dismissively. “No, no, this isn’t a speed competition. Do it slow so Nino and I can watch you.”

He stood there, knowing if one of them touched him that it would all be over rather quickly. The two reunited superheroes took prime seats on Nino’s couch, their thighs touching as they got comfortable. Nino wasn’t shy about what he wanted to do, unzipping his pants, shoving them and his underwear to his ankles, and letting Jun take hold of him. 

“Now,” Jun said, putting on an unaffected grin as he jerked Nino off. “Slowly. And hum for us. Your lyrics are really awful, but we do really like your voice. I want to hear your voice.”

Ohno wasn’t sure where to look. Should he look at Nino, who was torn between enjoying the sight of Jun’s hand working his cock and shutting his eyes from the pleasure of it? Should he look at Jun, who was looking at him like he wanted to possess every part of him? 

Getting involved with superheroes was an intense business.

He tried to keep as calm as he could, humming a random tune as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head, seeing Jun’s appreciative nods. It was a little difficult to stay focused, considering the happy little gasps and groans Nino was making as Jun’s hand worked at a steady, if almost punishing rhythm. By the time Ohno had slipped his zipper down, Nino’s hips were lifting off the couch in time with Jun’s movements.

“Keep going,” Jun said, his voice lower, rougher as Ohno slowly pushed his jeans down to the floor, stepping out of them. “Turn around, let me see you.”

He did as told, biting his lip when he tugged down his boxers, his hand grazing his erection as he did so. He turned around, letting Jun take in every bit of him. He was losing his place in the song he was humming, Nino’s moans of pleasure nearly drowning him out.

“Now,” Jun said, “Come here and finish him off.”

Ohno had never moved so fast in his life, hurrying to the couch and dropping to his knees, kneeling between Nino’s spread legs. Jun moved out of the way, Nino groaning in disappointment as soon as the friction of his hand disappeared. But the disappointment was short-lived as soon as Ohno obediently took him in his mouth, slowly, swirling his tongue around the head of him before letting Nino in inch by inch.

“Sing for him,” Jun ordered.

Nino cried out, his fingers tugging impatiently at Ohno’s hair as soon as he started to hum a pleasant tune. Jun was behind him, looming above them both, and Ohno nearly lost concentration when Jun’s fingers started to brush along his shoulder blades. The sparks from his fingers were controlled, light little bursts of energy that sent a sharp tingle of pain racing down his spine, making him jerk. It only encouraged Nino to surge upward, driving himself deeper into Ohno’s mouth. Now this wasn’t exactly fair, Ohno thought, halfway between irritation and pleasure.

“You’ve got real talent, Ohno-san,” Jun was whispering, showing off his power again, each time a little more aching than the last. Whatever Jun was doing to Ohno was somehow having a ricochet effect because Nino was trembling from it. The sensation of it must have somehow passed through Ohno’s body, maybe even through his tongue and straight to Nino’s cock. It took only one more tiny burst of energy before Nino was gasping. 

“Fuck, oh fuck,” he was half-giggling, half-moaning as Ohno had to finally give up on his musical efforts in order to swallow every last taste of him. 

Before Ohno could catch his breath, Jun was tugging Nino up and out of the way and shoving Ohno down onto the couch, pushing him onto his back. “Can I have you? After all, you’ve been so accommodating from the start, Ohno-san.”

Ohno stared up at him, the intensity of his dark eyes. “You, um, you won’t zap me during it will you?”

Nino was digging in a drawer somewhere close by. His voice was a bit lighter, almost drunk on the evening’s events. “Be nice to him, Jun-kun. After all, without him there’d have been no anniversary. There’d be no us.”

“Well,” Jun said, looking rather arrogant in that moment as he stood there still fully clothed and in control. “I suppose I could take it easy.”

Jun’s body was in tip top condition, if Ohno had to define it while he watched him undress. The kind of guy who went to the gym and got his money’s worth. Nino was by his side, kneeling beside the couch by his head. He took the liberty of whispering in his ear. “You think that’s nice? Just wait.”

At first, Ohno was a little embarrassed as Nino and Jun worked together. Their fingers slipped down Ohno’s abdomen, gently, Nino handing over lubricant and a condom. Then Nino was pressing soft, maddening kisses to the side of his face while Jun ensured that Ohno was ready for him, his fingers slipping inside him with firm resolve. He could have probably come from Jun’s touch and Nino’s breath on his ear alone. But then there was more, so much more, and Ohno was fairly certain he hadn’t felt this good in years.

“Told you,” Nino joked, kissing Ohno and swallowing his moan when Jun started to move. 

But as demanding, as almost scary as Matsumoto Jun was, he didn’t do anything too frightening. No more zapping! Instead Ohno was rewarded for his diligent efforts at reuniting the Storm Saviors with a good, hard fuck.

When it was all over, when the three of them were disheveled and in various states of drowsiness on Nino’s couch, Ohno felt Nino’s hand slip into his and squeeze.

“Tell him already, he’s waiting for it,” Nino whispered.

Ohno snorted, leaning over to tap Jun with his foot. “Hey.”

“Hmm?” Jun mumbled.

“Forget Keio Boy,” he said. “I’m definitely your fan again.”

—

The Eight Rangers left Storm City with little fanfare. Nobody noticed they were gone until some new department store opened, and the only person they could get to cut the ribbon was an Elvis impersonator who worked the day shift at the pachinko parlor next door. Storm City was, after all, a pretty safe place to live now.

Sakurai Sho went back to his bank job, his suits and ties, but all of a sudden he started finding time to check the police scanners. “Just in case something happens,” he explained to Ohno.

Aiba reactivated the red “Police Alert” telephone in the basement command center of his house and spent a few hours a week practicing a quick change into his bright green spandex costume. “Just in case they call,” he explained to Ohno.

Baccanale was closed for repairs, and Jun had somehow explained away the entire incident as a gas leak. While the restaurant was out of commission, he dropped off cannoli at Sakurai’s bank and Aiba’s house with increasing regularity. “Just in case they’re hungry,” he explained to Ohno.

Nino came out of his condo at least an hour a day to swim laps in the pool. “Just in case,” he explained to Ohno, offering a sly wink. Then he’d turn over in bed each night, fitting perfectly between him and Jun.

—

_This story was a silly thing_  
I’m sure the lyrics did offend  
At least there’s only two words left to sing  
And they’re, of course, “The End” 


End file.
